Rain washed over the broken stone and the scattered remains of the summoner's creations.
The archer waited for him to move. To push himself upright. To make another foolish remark about how useful he still was.
But he lay motionless beside the shattered pillar. His cracked charm had vanished into the mud, and the creatures he had struggled to hold together were gone.
She waited another heartbeat, searching for the rise of his chest, for any sign that he could still hear her. There was nothing.
Her fingers tightened around her bow. "You monster!" she shouted.
She turned toward the warlord and pulled an arrow from the small reserve tucked inside her boot. The string snapped forward, but he knocked the shot aside with the flat of his greatsword.
She fired again. And again.
One arrow broke against his shoulder guard. Another passed close enough to disturb the wet hair beside his face. He watched without speaking.
She drew the last arrow from her boot. Her hands trembled, but she held her aim and released.
The warlord turned his head, but too late. The arrow missed its intended mark, grazing his cheek and slicing through the black cloth covering the lower half of his face.
The torn fabric hung loosely against his cheek. He touched the wound with gauntleted fingers, then looked at the thin smear of blood on the metal. A slow smile spread across his face.
The archer reached for another arrow, but her fingers found only the empty sheath.
"Damn it," she muttered. Near a fallen shield, an intact arrow lay half-buried in the mud. She hurried toward it.
The samurai kept his sword raised, watching the warlord. At the edge of his vision, something moved behind the archer.
The warlord had opened his free hand. Black veins crept through the blood-soaked earth and slipped beneath a fallen soldier's armor. Its fingers tightened around a broken spear.
The corpse began to rise.
"Look out!" the samurai shouted.
The archer turned toward his voice, but the warning came too late.
The broken spear drove into her back. Her bow slipped from her fingers and landed intact in the mud. She staggered, then collapsed beside the summoner.
The dead soldier stood motionless over her, its broken spear still gripped in one hand.
"Draevorn!" the samurai shouted through the pounding rain. "How many more lives must you take? What could possibly justify all this suffering?"
The warlord turned his pale gaze toward him. The torn black cloth hung against his cheek, exposing the smile beneath it.
Draevorn gave a low chuckle. "Justify?" he repeated. "You still believe I owe you an explanation?" His gaze slid past the samurai toward the mage and the beast tamer. "Your companions can barely stand, yet you still raise your sword. I wonder how long their courage will last when you fall." His laughter carried through the rain.
Behind the samurai, the archer lay motionless beside the summoner. A thin black vein appeared along her neck and slowly branched beneath her skin, disappearing under the collar of her armor. Neither of her surviving companions noticed.
Draevorn regarded the samurai with an almost sympathetic expression. "I know you must miss your comrades," he said. "How about I give you one last chance to see them?"
The samurai tightened his grip on his sword.
Draevorn opened his gauntleted hand. Black veins spread from beneath his feet toward the fallen. Near the trench, a dead soldier's fingers twitched. Another body stirred near the ridge.
Beside the shattered pillar, the archer's fingers curled against the mud. Her head shifted, and she began to push herself upright as the other two bodies rose.
The samurai watched in horror. One soldier wore the blue sash of his ranks; the other's armor was split across the chest. And beside the summoner, the archer was rising too.
Her eyes were empty. Her bow remained where it had fallen.
Together with the spear-bearing soldier that had killed her, four corpses now moved at Draevorn's will.
Draevorn's smile widened. "There. Now you can die together."
"Stay behind me!" the samurai called to the mage. He started toward her, but Draevorn stepped into his path, greatsword rising. The blue-sashed corpse advanced on the mage with its chipped sword, while the other newly risen soldier closed on the beast tamer and his wounded, horned beast. The spear-bearing corpse turned toward the samurai.
Beside the shattered pillar, the undead archer bent to retrieve her bow. She raised it toward the beast tamer and drew back the empty string. Black corruption gathered between her fingers, twisting into the shape of an arrow.
She released the bowstring, sending the dark arrow hurtling toward the beast tamer. It tore through the rain, leaving a faint trail of black mist in its wake.
The mage caught the movement. Sweeping her staff upward, she pulled water from the rain-filled trench. It rose in a twisting column and spread into a shimmering, spinning barrier before the beast tamer.
The dark arrow struck the water and drove through its outer layers. Black threads curled through the current as the point pressed closer to him. The blue runes on the mage's staff flared. She turned her wrist sharply, wrenching the current sideways at the last instant.
The arrow tore past the tamer, catching the edge of his cloak, and shot into the empty stretch of battlefield beyond him. The water crashed down in a spray of rain and mud. The mage held her staff raised, breathing hard. She had turned the arrow aside, not destroyed it.
The mage drove her staff into the mud. A wave from the trench knocked the blue-sashed corpse onto its back, but it began clawing upright again. The crash of steel carried from the samurai's duel as she struggled to keep the corpse down. At the ridge, the tamer held the armored soldier back with his short spear, keeping it away from his wounded beast.
The dead moved stiffly, yet relentlessly, even as Draevorn kept his attention on the samurai.
The spear-bearing corpse reached the samurai first. He slashed through its weapon arm, but the body continued forward. He drove his blade through its neck and forced it down with a burst of wind. The corpse collapsed, its unnatural motion finally spent. Draevorn's smile faltered for an instant; his grip tightened on his greatsword.
Draevorn charged, lifting his greatsword over his shoulder and bringing it down toward the samurai's head. The remaining three corrupted bodies kept the mage and tamer fighting for every step near the ridge.
Stepping inside the greatsword's reach, the samurai thrust toward the gap beneath Draevorn's ribs. His point scraped across armor instead of finding flesh.
The warlord turned his body, wrenched his blade free, and swept it sideways. The samurai ducked; the weapon cut through a loose strand of his hair.
The samurai pivoted toward Draevorn's thigh, but his boots slid in the churned mud. Draevorn caught the hurried strike near the base of his blade and twisted it wide, then drove his knee toward the samurai's stomach.
Dropping his elbow, the samurai caught the blow. Pain jolted up his arm, but he struck back with his forehead, catching Draevorn above the nose.
The torn face covering shifted against Draevorn's cheek. His mouth twisted in anger as he drove the pommel toward the samurai's jaw.
The samurai leaned away. Metal scraped his cheek, and he cut across Draevorn's forearm on the return. A thin line opened beneath the bracer, and blood trickled down toward his hand.
Draevorn glanced at the wound, then brought his blade around in a low sweep. His opponent hopped over it, but the tip clipped his boot and sent him stumbling.
The warlord followed with a strike aimed at his ribs. The samurai caught it on his guard and turned with the impact, guiding the weapon past instead of trying to stop its full weight.
As the greatsword slid away, the samurai thrust toward Draevorn's shoulder. His opponent twisted aside; the point pierced the edge of his armor and scraped free.
A flash of white split the air. Lightning leapt from Draevorn's weapon.
The samurai threw his weight to one side. The bolt struck where he had stood, blasting mud against his face. He tasted grit and blood.
Before Draevorn could strike again, the samurai planted his heel and raised one hand. Earth heaved up from the battlefield. A thick wall rose between them, its face slanted toward the sky.
Draevorn thrust his weapon toward it. The bolt hit the stone with a crack, and bright fractures raced down the wall. It held long enough to turn the lightning upward and away from the samurai.
The shock still drove him back a step.
"Now!" the samurai shouted.
He had seen the priest fall, the summoner struck down, and the archer killed by a body that should never have risen. He would not let the last survivors die while he still had strength to lift his sword.
The mage slammed her staff against the trench bank. Water surged from the rain-filled ditch, climbing over the earth wall in a twisting sheet.
She swept her staff to guide the stream around the cracked stone, holding the water in a continuous, twisting channel.
Lightning jumped from the wall into the stream, racing along it in a flare of blue-white light. The runes on her staff burned brighter as she forced the charged current to follow the water rather than spill into the soaked ground.
She swung her staff forward. The charged stream whipped around the wall and shot toward Draevorn, still bound to her staff by a trembling thread of blue light.
Draevorn leapt aside. The strike missed him and burst against the ground behind him, scattering mud, steam, and sparks across his armor.
The samurai closed the gap as Draevorn landed. He cut high, but the warlord turned the blow aside. The samurai reversed his grip and thrust low, aiming for the inside of Draevorn's knee.
Draevorn drew back his leg and smashed his shoulder into the samurai's chest. The impact sent him sliding through the mud. He caught himself with one hand and swept his sword in a tight circle as he rose.
Wind followed the blade's path, curling into a hard gust that struck Draevorn across the chest. He rocked back but kept his footing.
Draevorn answered with a quick slash toward the samurai's hand. He jerked his fingers away, but the edge nicked his glove, and the hilt slipped in his wet palm.
The warlord pressed forward, striking again and again. His opponent blocked the first cut, let the second scrape past his guard, then turned the third aside with a sharp movement of his wrists.
The long blade grated along the samurai's sword and threw off a shower of sparks. Rolling his shoulder, he dragged his blade across Draevorn's armor. Metal rasped against metal, and fresh sparks burst from the contact.
He cut through their bright trail. A thread of fire caught along his sword and streamed from the blade in a crescent, racing across the ground toward the enemy.
The warlord stamped hard. Lightning snapped out and split the fire before it could reach him. The flames scattered into steaming patches.
Staying low, the samurai rushed through the smoke and struck at Draevorn's side. The greatsword came down to block. Their weapons crashed together; his sword bent away, but he turned with the force instead of fighting it.
He stepped past the warlord's arm and drove the hilt into his ribs. Draevorn grunted, caught him by the front of his armor, and flung him aside.
The samurai struck a broken shield. Its rim caught his hip, and his loose shoulder guard tore off and disappeared into the mud.